


Extra Time

by andyisadreamer



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coming Out, Drink Spiking, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mild Language, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-05-31 12:56:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6470776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andyisadreamer/pseuds/andyisadreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec Lightwood is a famous soccer player, torn between his loyalty to one team and his desire to play for another. Magnus Bane is an actor, sick to death of playing the Hollywood game. There's also: meddling siblings who think they're funny, an inconvenient crush on one's best friend (so close he's almost like a brother), nosy co-stars, tabloid scandals, and one hell of a coming out. </p><p>Modern/Human MalecAU! where it's mostly based on the television show, but occasionally elements of the books slip in, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pre-Game Rituals

**Chapter One: Pre-Game Rituals**

 

 

Alec was finally starting to drift off into a fitful sleep when his sister called from New York to tell him he had made the news. _Again_.

“I’m not going to lie,” Isabelle said, sounding offended on his behalf, “the picture looks awful.”

Alec stifled a yawn. “Are they still using the one of me from my first ever match for Chelsea?”

“Yes! You were so gangly and awkward back then!” He could practically hear his sister shaking her fist at the television screen. “It’s been four years, people! I know they must have a more recent photo of you than that – several thousand, surely, by now.” She sighed. “How are you supposed to get laid if everyone still looks at you and sees a pimply sixteen-year-old?”

“I’m thinking my sunny personality might turn a few heads.”

Izzy snorted. “You’re taking this well.”

Alec shrugged, before realising his sister couldn’t see him. “I’m used to it.”

“I guess there’s no chance of you dating someone anyway, so what’s the point in correcting them?”

Alec rolled his eyes. “Deliberately avoiding pronouns. Subtle.”

“I’m not going to pretend like I don’t know, Alec.” Izzy’s tone was surprisingly sharp. “You forget, I was the one who had to pick you up from that dive bar in Brooklyn when you decided that consuming half a bottle of Absinthe was a better way of dealing with your problems than _talking to your sister_.”

Alec winced at the memory. He’d been eighteen at the time. The week-long hospital visit that resulted from the incident had almost cost him his place on the Chelsea team. He hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since, but, judging by her tone, Izzy was still furious with him, and probably would be for a long time to come.

“Can we not do this now?” Alec rubbed his eyes. “I just played ninety minutes of football and all I want to do is sleep. Maybe forever.”

“Oh, yeah.” There was a pause. “Congrats on the win.”

“Cheers.”

“Football? Cheers?” He could hear the smirk in Izzy’s voice. “Someone’s gone native.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“No, wait!” Izzy laughed. “I did actually call for a reason.”

“This had better be good.”

“Simon and I are moving in together.”

Alec’s eyes snapped open. “ _What?_ ”

“You’ve got some vacation days coming up in March, right? You should fly back and help us move.”

“It’s International Week, Iz, not a _holiday_. And I only get two days off.”

It wasn’t a ‘no’. Which meant, as far as Izzy was concerned, he would be there early, with coffee for all, and a moving van pre-booked and paid for in his name.

“Thanks, big bro! I love you.”

Alec pressed his face into his pillow and groaned.

Izzy was definitely laughing at him. “I’ll let you get back to sleep.” She hung up.

Alec slid his phone onto the bedside table, alarm pre-set, and sank into his mattress. He didn’t have training in the morning, but he always met his father bright and early on Sundays for a post-match break-down. Ever since his parents had split up and Robert had moved to England to take a punditry position with _Sky Sports_ , his obsession with Alec’s career had quadrupled. It was he who was pushing Alec to transfer.

Idris City FC was Alec’s dream team. They weren’t the best – far from it – but he had followed them since he was a kid, watching the back-end of his father’s career and wishing he was out there on the pitch beside him.

But. He couldn’t just forget his current team, could he? Those guys were his friends, his brothers. He’d been at Chelsea since he was nine, before joining the Premiere League side officially at sixteen. Was he really willing to throw that away on a gamble, one that might not pay off? He had a much higher chance of winning the Premiere League with Chelsea than with Idris City, and with an injury putting him out of the running for the US World Cup team, that was the only trophy he had any hope of getting this season.

Alec rolled onto his back and glared at the ceiling. So much for sleep.

With impeccable timing, as per usual, Alec’s phone vibrated on the table beside him. He knew without looking who it would be. Which was why, after pinching the bridge of his nose for a good minute, he rolled over and picked up his phone.

 

**_Jace_ **

_what r u doing? come out w me 2nite._

 

Alec sighed. It was late; Jace was probably at some club, looking for some gullible idiot to act as his wingman. Alec was terrible at talking to women – to anyone who wasn’t his teammate or his sibling – but his complete lack of charm always showed Jace in a good light. It was why they worked. It was also why they didn’t.

 

**_Alec_ **

_Can’t. Busy._

**_Jace_ **

_where r u?_

**_Alec_ **

_In bed._

**_Jace_ **

_well done Alec!_

**_Alec_ **

_Alone._

**_Jace_ **

_aw boo._

**_Jace_ **

_if ur not w someone then that means u can come out w me._

**_Jace_ **

_Pandemonium. 30 mins. BE THERE._

 

Alec blinked down at his phone. His heart was beating inordinately fast, especially for someone who, not half an hour ago, had been on the brink of sleep. Now he couldn’t be more wide awake.

Of course, he knew _Pandemonium_. Everyone in London did. It was notorious for its ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy and raucous, free-wheeling clientele. It was also, primarily, a gay club. Why would Jace – the straightest man Alec had ever met – want to meet him there? Unless…?

Alec threw off the covers and sprinted across his cold apartment, running the shower while he agonized over what to wear. He didn’t know a thing about fashion. He considered ringing Isabelle back to ask her advice, but the thought of how smug she would be stilled his finger on the redial button. No, he could dress himself. Besides, Jace had already seen him at his worst: sweaty, dehydrated, covered in mud and blood and snot. They had climbed the ranks together as youth players, Jace deciding to jump ship for Arsenal FC two years ago. The two American boys, far away from home. On the pitch, they were rivals. Off the pitch, Jace was his best friend. One of the people he loved most in the world…

Hair damp but drying, dressed all in black (it was safest that way), Alec made it to _Pandemonium_ with seconds to spare. The cab driver had obviously recognized him, but didn’t react when Alec told him where he wanted to go. Maybe it wasn’t so weird for straight guys to want to enjoy the lavish, carefree attitude of the anything-goes nightclub. He knew a few of his teammates who frequented the club – girlfriends in tow, of course. Hopefully his appearance at _Pandemonium_ wouldn’t register as even a blip on the paparazzi’s radar.

_Pandemonium_ was…pandemonium. Strobe lights hit Alec’s eyes as soon as he walked through the door. Luckily (or perhaps unluckily), the bouncer at the entrance was a Chelsea fan, and let him through immediately, cutting the long line.

The club was a complete assault on the senses. Everything was colourful; bright, made of glass and crystal. It was also packed with people. Alec wasn’t sure how he was going to find Jace in this crowd. Shooting off a quick text to his friend, Alec headed to the bar. He ordered a glass of water with ice and sipped it while he waited.

That was when he saw him. Not Jace. Not anyone he knew. Alec didn’t know people like _that_.

Up on one of the raised platforms set aside for the braver dancers, a man had suddenly appeared. Alec stared. Unlike the drunk crowd around him, this man could actually move. Not in the _I-know-how-to-shimmy-my-hips-to-house-music_ kind of way, but in an _I-train-eight-hours-a-day-every-day-to-be-this-good_ kind of way. He was also, incidentally, shirtless.

Alec chugged his glass of water and waved for another one. He wasn’t the only one watching this man. Every straight woman and gay man in the place was watching him sway as if in a trance. When the song ended, and the man jumped down from the platform, he was mobbed by men and woman alike, pushing drinks into his hands, grinding against him, shouting for his number. Alec turned away and pulled out his phone.

Nothing.

 

**_Alec_ **

_I’m here. Where are you?_

**_Alec_ **

_I’ll wait for you at the bar._

**_Alec_ **

_Jace. You made me do this. You made me come here._

**_Alec_ **

_If you don’t reply in the next 10 minutes, I’m going back to bed._

 

“I’ll have a vodka martini.”

Alec glanced at the man standing next to him. He was tall, broad, and covered in tattoos. There was something about him that made Alec uncomfortable. An air of menace that instinct told him to avoid at all costs. Watching him out of the corner of his eye, Alec saw him accept the drink from the bartender and then, suddenly, so quick that he almost missed it, the man dropped something into the glass and walked away.

Alec followed the man’s path across the room. To his horror, he saw him approach the man from earlier, the one who had been dancing on the platform.

 

**_Jace_ **

_on my way_

**_Jace_ **

_stay where u r. I’m coming 2 u._

 

Alec glanced down at his phone and bit his lip. But when he looked back up and saw the dancer taking a sip of the vodka martini he’d been handed, his decision was made for him.

Abandoning his post at the bar, Alec threw himself into the crowd. The dancer was moving, heading outside towards the door to the alleyway. It was where the customers went to smoke, do drugs, and fornicate – according to Sebastian, one of Alec’s teammates and the one who had first introduced him to _Pandemonium_ ’s reputation.

The dancer had already finished his drink by the time Alec found him. He was further down the alley, away from the crowds, leaning against the cold stone wall and fanning himself with a painted hand. The man who had spiked his drink was nowhere to be seen; a stroke of luck that Alec hailed as a miracle.

Now that he was standing in front of the man, Alec didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t in then habit of approaching half-naked men in alleyways. He never talked to strangers, if he could help it. He had a habit of coming off as frigid and aloof whenever he attempted to make conversation with someone he wasn’t already comfortable around.

In the end, he didn’t have to say anything. The man noticed him lurking and rolled his eyes.

“No, I don’t want to dance. No, I would not like a drink, or your phone number, and, no, you can’t have mine, either.”

Alec blinked. “You’ve been drugged.”

The man’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

“Your drink. I saw someone put something in it.”

“Did you now?”

“Yes.” Alec took a step towards him. “You can use my phone to call a cab, if you like. Or the police. It’s up to you.”

The man looked Alec up and down, as if seeing him for the first time. “What’s your name?”

“You don’t know who I am?”

The man’s eyebrows rose further. “Why? Are you important?”

Alec flushed and ducked his head. “No.”

“I’m Magnus.”

Alec looked up in surprise. The man was smiling.

“Now, darling, about that cab…?”

“Oh, um, right. Of course.” Alec pressed his phone into Magnus’s hands. Their fingertips brushed and Alec felt it all the way down to his toes.

“You never told me your name,” Magnus said, once he had made his call.

“Alec.”

“Well, Alexander, it was nice meeting you.”

Alec frowned. “You don’t want me to wait with you until your cab arrives? I don’t mind.”

Magnus cocked his head to one side. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your girlfriend.”

“I’m single.” Alec blushed. He had chastised Izzy for playing the pronoun game, and now he was doing the same thing.

Magnus looked genuinely surprised, handing Alec back his phone, the screen of which was covered in messages from a very impatient Jace.

 

**_Jace_ **

_I’m here where r u?_

**_Jace_ **

_Alec I’m waiting_

**_Jace_ **

_get your tight little ass to this bar young man_

 

Alec palmed a hand over his face, which was turning redder by the second. “Jace is just a friend.”

Magnus eyed him shrewdly. “Oh, I doubt that.”

As Alec watched, unsure of himself, Magnus reached into the pocket of his ridiculously tight jeans and pulled out – a phone.

“Why did you use mine if you had…?”

Magnus held up his phone, snapping a picture of Alec’s bemused expression. “I left you my number, just in case.”

“And this?” Alec waved at him, indicating the photo he had just taken.

“I’m leaving myself a little reminder. If someone roofied me, like you said, then I probably won’t remember who saved me in the morning.”

Alec flushed. Magnus noticed, and typed something onto his phone. He was starting to sway now, like a reed in coastal winds.

Alec’s phone buzzed. Magnus’s cab was outside.

“Do you mind…?” Alec reached his hands towards Magnus, giving him ample time to pull away. He didn’t.

Alec half-carried Magnus through the alleyway and back into _Pandemonium_. The taxi-rink was out the front; the quickest way through was across the dance floor. Alec was so busy keeping an eye out for Jace that he didn’t notice the man moving to block his path until it was too late.

It was the guy from before. The one with the tattoos, who had put something in Magnus’s drink.

“What are you doing?” he demanded. His voice was low, menacing, rippling down Alec’s spine.

“He’s about to pass out,” Alec explained, playing dumb. Maybe if he gave this man the opportunity to do the right thing, he would leave without causing trouble. “His taxi is waiting out front.”

The man gripped Magnus by the wrists. “I’ll take him.”

Alec pulled Magnus back against his chest. “I’ve got him.”

Magnus, finally succumbing to the effects of the drugs, mouthed sloppily against Alec’s shirt.

“Look,” Alec said, sensing a fight. “I know you spiked this man’s drink. I saw you do it. And I’m sober, so who do you think the police will believe?”

The man shifted, fists clenching.

“My priority is getting this man home safe. If you leave now, we can go our separate ways and pretend like this never happened.”

The man hesitated. Alec readjusted Magnus in his arms, swinging around, putting the bar at his back. The man faced him, squaring off, but then seemed to think better of it, and lumbered back into the crowd.

Alec sagged in relief. If he was on his own, unhindered, he could probably have beaten that guy in a fight. But carrying Magnus? There was no chance.

The cab was waiting outside when he was finally able to escape the crowds. Magnus was conscious but babbling, and the cab driver was reluctant to accept the fare.

“What if I came with him? He’s not going to throw up, he’s just…tired.”

The driver waved him in wearily. Alec slid in beside Magnus, feeling uncomfortable again. It was one thing to help a man in trouble, it was another thing entirely to go home with him, especially when he was _this close_ to passing out.

Magnus had obviously told the cab company his destination on the phone, so at least Alec didn’t have to spend an awkward few minutes searching for his wallet in those criminally tight trouser pockets.

The ride was quiet. Magnus rested his head on Alec’s shoulder and closed his eyes. After checking to make sure he was still breathing, Alec left him there. He wondered if maybe he should have called an ambulance instead.

A thought suddenly struck him. Alec pulled out his phone and dialed.

“Hello? Police? Yes, I was just at _Pandemonium_ , the club, yes, and a man spiked my friend’s drink, then effectively tried to kidnap him. Yes, he’s alright. I managed to intervene just in time; I’m taking him home now. You’ll want to check the security camera over the bar. It should have a clear image of him spiking the drink, and I made sure it got a good look at his face before I left. Yes, this was about forty minutes ago.”

Alec ran a hand through his hair. It came away covered in glitter. He snorted. “My name? Alexander Lightwood. Yes, _that_ Alec Lightwood. This is my number. Call me if you need a witness statement or anything. The victim? Magnus. Oh, his last name?”

Alec glanced around in a panic.

“Bane,” the cab driver supplied, glancing at him in the rearview mirror.

Alec shot him a grateful look. “The victim’s name is Magnus Bane.”


	2. Post-Match Analysis

**Chapter Two: Post-Match Analysis**

** **

**this is Alexander**

**HE SAVED YOUR LIFE**

 

 Magnus woke up in his hotel room with no memory of how he’d gotten there. His pants were still on and the other side of the bed was empty, which was both a miracle _and_ a surprise. When he cracked an eye open, however, there was a jug of water on the bedside table, as well as a stack of dry toast.

“Hello?” he called, wrenching himself upright. The room spun and he noticed that there was a note stuck to the headboard of his bed.

Magnus’s gaze was a bit blurry, but he was sure that the note was signed ‘Alec’. Did he know an Alec? His phone was lying on the undisturbed pillow next to him and he snatched it up. It opened to a picture of a stunningly gorgeous young man, standing in shadow. Was this Alec? _Oh, please, let this be Alec._

Magnus scanned his phone for more clues. Sure enough, he had a new entry in his contacts under ‘Alexander’. There was also a ridiculously garbled set of non-sequeters about his gorgeous savior in the notes section as well:

 

**check photos now!!!!!!!!!!!!**

**this is Alexander**

**single ;)**

**v pretty**

**THIS MAN SAVED YOUR LIFE**

**saw sum1 spiking ur drink &k swooped in 2 save u**

**blushes a lot**

**~~straight~~ ** **bi? gaydar destroyed by tequila and roofies**

_What the hell happened last night?_ Magnus thought, slipping out of bed and pulling on his complementary bath robe. The last thing he remembered was meeting up with Catarina at Ragnor’s lavish apartment and then…nothing.

Maybe this ‘Alec’ would have the answers? There was something achingly familiar about him.

“Who are you, you gorgeous creature?” Magnus muttered, stroking his thumb over the screen of his phone, where a set of brooding eyes gazed back at him.

Just then, the phone on the nightstand began to trill.

Magnus answered it. “Yes, I’m alive. Who was it that asked you to call?”

“Well. H-He didn’t leave his name, sir.”

“Describe him.”

“Um, well, I…”

“Useless,” Magnus sighed, and was about to hang up when the nervous hotel worker broke in, “Why don’t you just Google him? Or turn on _Sky Sports_.”

That was when it hit him. “Alec. Alexander Lightwood!”

“Yes, sir.”

Magnus hung up, lowering the phone slowly back into its cradle. Last night he had met Alexander Lightwood and he couldn’t remember a damn thing. The most beautiful athlete on the planet, the face of every nutritional drink, sports supplement, and, bizarrely, archery equipment provider, in the country. Magnus collapsed backwards onto his bed and groaned.

Magnus wasn’t particularly fond of sports. Boys like him weren’t often picked for teams, because he was already on the _wrong one_ as far as the rest of the world was concerned. Ragnor, however, was a big fan, and had dragged Magnus to a Chelsea vs. Idris City match last year, much to his disdain. He had sulked all the way to the stadium. But then the teams had been announced, and a dark-haired, serious-looking _Angel_ of a man had jogged across his field of vision and his opinion of soccer had been altered irrevocably.

“Down boy,” Ragnor had said drily at the time. “Even you can’t turn this one.”

Magnus had smirked. “Want to bet?” But he hadn’t genuinely thought he would ever have the chance to meet the beautiful defender, never in a million years.

Magnus rolled over and hit speed-dial 1 on his phone.

“Magnus!” Catarina snapped, answering on the first ring. “Where the hell have you been?”

Magnus’s eyebrows shot up. “Were you worried about me, Cat?”

She snorted, as if the idea of her expressing concern for her friend was beyond ridiculous. “What happened to you last night?”

“I’m not entirely sure.”

Catarina sighed. She did that a lot when she was around him.

“It’s not what you think,” Magnus interrupted what was sure to be a lengthy lecture about responsibility and public image. “Someone spiked my drink.”

There was a moment of cold silence. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. I was saved! My very own Knight in Shining Armor!”

“Are you sure you’re sober?”

“I’m not making this up!” Magnus insisted. “Alexander saw someone drop something in my drink and then stepped in to protect my virtue. He called a cab, escorted me home, and, judging by the delicious scent wafting in from the kitchenette, even took the time to make a pot of coffee before slipping out into the night.”

Another pause. “And you didn’t sleep with him? Or, _he_ didn’t sleep with _you_?”

“No!”

“Huh.”

“I know.” Magnus knew he sounded awed, but couldn’t help it.

Catarina cleared her throat. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“The last twelve hours, yes.”

“I _meant_ …isn’t there somewhere you’re supposed to be right now?”

Magnus frowned.

“Convention panel? _Shadowhunters?_ Ringing any bells?”

Magnus leapt off the bed. “Why didn’t you mention this sooner! I was supposed to be downstairs to meet my car an hour ago!”

“Not my problem,” Catarina said bluntly. “Although if you don’t get here soon, Ragnor’s going to have an aneurysm.”

Magnus threw his phone down on the bed and rushed into the shower. He rinsed the stench of sweat and alcohol from his pores, before rifling hurriedly through his extensive wardrobe. He eventually settled on a satiny black shirt, blue trousers, complementing it with his usual amount of glitter, make-up, and accessories.

He exchanged a grimace with his reflection in the mirror; it would have to do.

His phone chirped incessantly in his pocket as he rushed downstairs to meet his car. Catarina must have told Ragnor he was alive and, therefore, late.

 

**_Ragnor_ **

_So you weren’t murdered._

**_Ragnor_ **

_Where did you go last night?_

**_Ragnor_ **

_Nm. Cat explained everything. You’re an imbecile._

**_Ragnor_ **

_Hurry up. The Shadowhunters panel starts in less than an hour._

****

**_Magnus_ **

_Take a deep breath, my dear little cabbage. I’m on my way. You can’t make the London traffic move any faster just by yelling at me._

****

**_Ragnor_ **

_I hate you._

 

Magnus smirked. As he was about to put his phone away, he remembered something. His thumb hovered over Alexander’s name in his contacts list. Did he dare?

The young footballer answered on the third ring. “Alec Lightwood speaking.”

Magnus felt himself smile. “Alexander? This is Magnus. Do you remember me?”

Silence.

A voice in the background asked, _“Alec? Who is that?”_

“Yes, of course I remember you,” Alec said finally. It sounded like he had moved somewhere more private to take his call, a thought which made Magnus glow. “The important question is: do _you_ remember _me_?”

“Not as such, no. But according to a little note I left myself, I have you to thank for getting me home safely last night.”

“Um, well, yeah. You weren’t really in any state to be taking care of yourself, so…”

Magnus smiled. “I just wanted to say thank you. I might not remember it, but you certainly took good care of me. Better than any of my so-called friends would have.”

“Oh. You’re welcome.”

“Is now not a good time?” Magnus asked lightly.

Alec hummed. “I’m out to brunch with my father.”

“I won’t keep you, then. I myself am very busy this morning.” Magnus winced at how that sounded, like he was pretending he had something to do when really he didn’t. Except that he _did_.

“Oh.” Maybe it was wishful thinking, but Alec sounded disappointed. “Well, thanks for checking in. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“You’ll have to allow me the pleasure of returning the favor some time.”

“You want to carry my unconscious body up twelve flights of stairs?”

Magnus’s eyes widened. “You _what?_ ”

“The elevators in your hotel were undergoing emergency maintenance. So I carried you.” Now Alec was embarrassed.

“That…that’s, um…” Magnus didn’t know quite how to respond to _that_.

Alec was quiet, clearly afraid that he’d said too much.

Magnus shook his head to clear it. “I was going to suggest that I buy you a drink to express my gratitude, but perhaps the situation warrants a little more than that.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Alec said quickly.

“No, I know.” Magnus smiled. “I want to.”

“That…that sounds like fun.” Alec lowered his voice, as if admitting a shameful secret. “When?”

“How about tonight?”

“Okay. But I have to be up early on Monday morning, so we can’t…”

Magnus’s eyebrows shot up. “So we can’t… _what?_ ”

Alec hesitated. “Just one drink, right?”

“I don’t want to pressure you into anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“No, I—”

_“Alec? What are you doing? Unless that’s the Idris City manager, hang up and come back to the table. We still have a lot to discuss.”_

“I have to go,” Alec said in a small voice.

Magnus’s stomach sank; so much for that drink. “Thank you again, Alexander. Truly.”

“It was…yeah…” Alec took a deep, shaky breath. And then, so quick Magnus almost missed it: “I’ll see you tonight. Text me the address.”

He hung up.

Magnus stared down at his phone, eyes wide. Was that…was he…did he just make a date with _the_ most gorgeous athlete on the planet?

His excitement was diminished somewhat by his car pulling up outside the convention centre to find a very impatient Ragnor waiting for him at the curb. Crowds pressed in on them as security ushered him inside.

“Finally,” Ragnor breathed, as they made it to the waiting area backstage. Catarina was there, dressed to the nines, eyeing Magnus’s outfit with all of her customary disdain.

“Cutting it a tad close, aren’t we, _sweetheart_?” Camille said, moving to block his path. Magnus resisted the urge to shudder. Maybe once he had loved this cold, manipulative woman standing before him, but after crushing his heart under the spike of her high-heeled shoe, any affection he once felt for her had fled.

“Out with another of your harlots, were you?” she pressed.

Magnus returned her cold smile with an equally icy one of his own. “Now how is that any of your business?”

Really, he was to blame for all of this. Both Ragnor and Catarina—even Raphael—had warned him not to date someone he worked with. When _Shadowhunters_ had, against all expectations, become one of the most popular shows on television two years ago, Magnus had been riding high. He’d thought he was invincible, that the rules no longer applied to him. Like his character on the show, he was _immortal_. Which was why falling into bed with Camille—his beautiful, seductive co-star—had seemed like such an attractive idea at the time. Oh, how quickly he’d been proven wrong.

Now he was stuck working alongside his most dreaded ex, travelling with her, watching her do the same to other men. Magnus might enjoy playing the field, but at least he didn’t take a blowtorch to it. There were forest fires in Australia with more consideration for human life than Camille.

Then Magnus thought of Alec. It struck him just how different the young footballer was from everyone he knew, or had ever known. Catarina and Ragnor were both good people and they cared about him, but they were also products of the Hollywood machine – they knew how to play the game, and they played it well. Alec was not like that. He was earnest and shy, and had seemed genuinely concerned for Magnus’s wellbeing, despite not knowing him at all. It would never have crossed Alec’s mind to pretend he hadn’t seen that man slip something into Magnus’s drink. Magnus suspected he wasn’t the first person Alec had saved. There was something about him—an inner light—that Magnus found refreshing.

Or perhaps he was, once again, succumbing to the lure of a pretty face. Only time would tell.

 

EXCERPT FROM THE TRANSCRIPT OF THE SHADOWHUNTERS PANEL:

 

**_Moderator: Magnus, what do you admire most about your character?_ **

 

_M: Harry is…kind. Hardworking, cheeky, refreshingly himself. And he’s one hell of a dancer – one of the few things we have in common._

**_Moderator: And Magnus, what do you envy most about your character?_ **

_M: Well, the hot Shadowhunter boyfriend for a start._

**_Fan: My question is for Magnus. Hi! I’m a huge fan!_ **

****

_M: I’m a huge fan of that belt. Where did you get it?_

**_Fan: I made it._ **

_M: Stunning. I’ll have to commission one for myself. We’ll talk about that later…your question?_

**_Fan: Oh! Right! Uh, you said that you envy Harry and Matthew’s relationship. Does that mean that you’re single?_ **

_M: Sadly, yes. Ever since dear Camille here broke my heart—oh, don’t look like that Cammy, you know I’m only teasing—I haven’t really had the time or the inclination to enter the dating pool again. Maybe one day that will change – maybe one day soon._

**_Fan: There are pictures of you all over the internet from the Pandemonium club last night. Do you go clubbing often?_ **

_M: Like I said, I love to dance._

**_Moderator: Don’t we all. Perhaps we could steer the questions back towards Shadowhunters? I’m sure there are_ ** **some _things that Magnus would still like to keep private._**

_M: *laughs* I think that ship has sailed, don’t you? Just look me up on Instagram._

**_Moderator: *uneasy laughter* Aaaand that’s all we have time for today…_ **


	3. Preliminaries

**Chapter Three: Preliminaries**

 

“Sorry about that, father.”

Alec slid back into his chair, slipping his phone out of sight. He hoped the red flush of his cheeks had faded enough that Robert wouldn’t notice.

“You were gone so long, I had no choice but to order for you.” Robert squinted. “You like sausage, right?”

Alec nearly choked on his own spit. “I’m a fan,” he said weakly.

“Good. I can’t stand these health-fad diets half the footballers are on these days. When I was at Idris, we played on half a bottle of scotch and a full English breakfast.”

Alec nodded, even though he himself ate organic most of the time. His only guilty pleasure was coffee, which he drank by the gallon. He had even made a pot over at Magnus’s hotel room, sucking back the bitter nectar before disappearing out into the night.

“Was there something in particular you wanted to talk to me about, father?” Alec asked.

Robert’s brow furrowed. “Do you have somewhere else to be?”

“Um, well, _actually_ —”

“I didn’t think so.” Robert leaned across the table to clap him on the shoulder. “You’ve never been one to give in to distractions. Not like Jace.”

Robert had always liked Jace, but apparently even _he_ wasn’t exempt from the ex-player’s scrutiny. Alec shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“Idris City is putting in a bid later today,” he said, changing the subject. “I thought you should know.”

Robert’s eyes glinted. “When? For how much? Are Chelsea thinking of accepting it?”

“Well, there’s a lot to think about—”

“What is there to think about?” Robert looked gleeful. “This has been our dream since you were in diapers!”

Alec forced a smile. “It’s not that simple, Dad.”

“Why not?”

“Chelsea has been my home for the past eleven years. I can’t just _abandon_ them.”

Robert waved a hand dismissively. “It’s the nature of the game, son.”

“What about loyalty?”

“Idris City is and always has been this family’s club. You’d be showing loyalty to them.”

Alec bit his lip. “You always taught me to see things through. To show commitment.”

Robert sighed. “Alec. _Son_. I’m not trying to make this decision _for_ you. I’m just trying to show you that it’s okay to go after what you want.”

Something twisted low in Alec’s gut. He wondered if his father would be saying the same thing if he knew who Alec had just been on the phone with.

“You know, Chelsea might not even accept the offer.” Alec knew he was clutching at straws. If the offer was for £30 million, like the papers predicted, he doubted Chelsea would say no, especially when they had Sebastian ready to step up and take his place.

“You’ll let me know when Idris makes the call?” Robert pressed.

“Of course, father.”

“Good boy.” His father’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’m very proud of you, son.”

Alec finished off the last of his coffee, ignoring the burn of the too-hot liquid in his throat. “Thanks…Dad.”

 

 

**_Izzy_ **

_How did it go?_

**_Alec_ **

_I’m going to accept the offer._

**_Izzy_ **

_What? I thought you were thinking of turning it down._

**_Alec_ **

_It’s the right choice for my career. Idris is the family club. It makes sense._

**_Izzy_ **

_Dad got to you, didn’t he?_

**_Izzy_ **

_Alec, you have to stop letting him control your decisions._

**_Alec_ **

_He’s not controlling anything. I made this choice on my own._

**_Izzy_ **

_You know I’ll support you in whatever you do. As long as it’s what YOU want._

**_Alec_ **

_I do. I want this._

**_Izzy_ **

_Ok. Good._

**_Izzy_ **

_I won’t say another word about it._

**_Izzy_ **

_What is this I hear about you going home with Magnus Bane last night?_

 

Alec nearly dropped his phone in shock. He called his sister with shaking fingers.

Isabelle’s tone was smug as she answered. “Why, _hello there_ , brother dear. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“How do you know about Magnus?” Alec demanded.

“Wait! It’s _true?_ ”

“Well, not in the way you’re thinking, but, yes, I did go to his hotel room last night.”

This had to be the first and only time Alec had ever managed to render his little sister speechless.

“It’s a long story,” Alec added, as if that helped.

“There’s a picture of you two leaving _Pandemonium_ together. It’s grainy – I probably wouldn’t have recognized you at all if it weren’t for the shirt you were wearing. I _know_ that shirt – I _picked out_ that shirt.”

Alec closed his eyes briefly.

Sensing his panic, Izzy rushed on, “Don’t worry. No one’s talking. Someone sent me the picture as joke, because they know I’m a huge Magnus Bane fan. They didn’t know it was you in the photo.”

“What do you mean, you’re a Magnus Bane fan? How do you know who he is?”

“How do I know…? He’s _famous_ , Alec!” Izzy sighed, officially done with him. “I’m not sure he’s been in anything you would have seen, but right now he’s starring in that hit fantasy series, _Shadowhunters_.”

Alec frowned. He had seen _Shadowhunters_ before. It was one of his few guilty pleasures, along with coffee and _Eastenders_. But surely he would have recognized…? His eyes bulged. “Wait. _Wait_. Magnus Bane plays the bi-sexual Warlock on _Shadowhunters_?”

“Yes!”

“He’s won an Emmy.”

“Three of them.”

Alec leaned back in his chair, stunned. He had carried a celebrity up twelve flights of stairs, felt the hard press of his lean body against his chest.

“He also has a YouTube channel,” Izzy said. “You should check it out.”

“Why would I do that?”

Izzy didn’t respond; he imagined she was too busy smirking. “If you two start dating, could you get me the number of his stylist?”

“We’re not—” Alec stopped himself, eyes widening.

A date. He and Magnus Bane, three-time-Emmy-award-winner and ultimate celebrity heart-throb, were going on a date.

Isabelle, like a shark sensing blood in the water, pounced on his silence. “By the Angel, you really are dating Magnus Bane!”

“I’m not…not _exactly_.”

“Explain.”

Alec re-capped the last twenty-four hours as best he could. He felt himself blush in more than a few places.

“That is so _romantic_ ,” Izzy sighed, before catching herself. “So, what are you going to wear to this date?”

“It’s not a date.” Alec stood up, pacing around his apartment’s small living room. “He just invited me out to say thank-you. That’s all.”

“Are you sure?” Now Izzy sounded genuinely concerned. “He’s famously single, Alec, and you’re an attractive man who he met at a gay club. Are you sure you aren’t getting your wires crossed?”

Alec worried his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Or maybe you _want_ this to be a date,” Izzy said slyly.

“Don’t be stupid, Iz.”

“Look, if you’re at all unsure about this, then just tell him. Magnus is a big boy. He’s older than you and definitely more experienced. If you just explain the situation to him, I’m sure he’d understand.”

“How do you know what Magnus is like?” Alec asked cattily. “What if I reject him and he sells our story to the tabloids out of revenge?”

“What story?” Izzy’s tone was cool. “The story of how you were out with one of your ex-teammates and happened to swoop in and save him from being sexually assaulted? Because you might want to consider leaking that story yourself.”

Alec collapsed back down onto his sofa. “I’m making too big of a deal out of this, aren’t I?”

“Drama Queen,” Izzy agreed.

Alec glanced at the clock on his wall. It was nearly six. Magnus had suggested that they meet at seven, at a VIP bar just a few blocks from his hotel.

“What _should_ I wear?” Alec asked.

He could feel Izzy beaming through the phone. She forced him to call back on Skype so that she could assess the options for herself.

Which was probably why he was rushing out the door, already ten minutes late to meet Magnus.

Alec was just locking up when a hand descended on his shoulder.

“Jace.”

The golden-haired, golden-eyed man before him smiled. “Where are you off to in such a rush?” His smile widened as he took in his friend’s appearance. “Is that where you disappeared off to last night? Did you meet someone?”

Alec yanked on the collar of his button-up shirt, suddenly feeling overdressed. And hot. Was it hot in here? It was England, so probably not.

Jace arched an eyebrow. “Alec? You okay buddy?”

“No.” Alec grimaced. “I mean, yes I met someone.”

Jace was obviously surprised, but hid it well. “Good for you.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “I was going to ask if you wanted to come over to my place for dinner tonight. Clary’s got another charming young friend she wants to force on you, I think.” He rolled his eyes.

For a second, Alec’s heart had leapt. Now it settled somewhere around his toes. “I have a date.”

“Good for you,” Jace repeated, not sure what else to say. This was unchartered territory for the both of them.

“Tell Clary I said ‘hi’.”

“I will, man, I will. Have fun on your…date.”

Alec brushed past his best friend and down the stairs. He couldn’t handle a minute-long ride down in the elevator, forced into an enclosed space with Jace, who was confusing enough from a distance, let alone up close.

Alec wasn’t sure what had possessed him to lie. Or, at least, to bend the truth. Magnus wasn’t his date. He barely knew the man, and after tonight, he was unlikely to ever see him again, outside of a television screen.

“Don’t forget to use protection!” Jace called down the stairwell. Alec felt his face heat up and pushed outside, onto the street. He ignored the messages pinging into his phone that he knew were also from Jace.

 

**_Jace_ **

_Do u knw where the clit is? It might b important._

 

**_Jace_ **

_Nm. I’ll send u a diagram._

 

Magnus looked on the verge of leaving when Alec arrived.

“I’m so sorry!” he gasped, leaning forward to rest his hands on his knees.

Magnus’s eyebrows rose. “Did you run all the way here?”

Alec nodded, straightening up. “My sister kept me on the phone for hours, and then my best friend turned up at my door unexpectedly, and when I finally got away from them, I was already twenty minutes late and no cabs would take me.”

“So you ran,” Magnus finished for him, the corner of his mouth twitching.

Alec shrugged, pushing the hair out of his eyes. Magnus gazed at him, considering.

“Well, you’re here now.” Magnus held the door to the bar open for him. “Shall we?”


	4. Switching Teams

**Chapter Four: Switching Teams**

 

**_Magnus_ **

_I believe I’ve been stood up._

**_Ragnor_ **

_Serves you right for seducing a child._

**_Magnus_ **

_He’s 20._

**_Ragnor_ **

_And how old are you?_

**_Magnus_ **

_Hush._

 

Magnus looked around the room, catching the sympathetic eye of Lydia, the barmaid. In his excitement he’d made it to the bar early, which only made it more painfully obvious that Alec was late. He felt the unreasonable urge to stand up and make the announcement that, no, he was _not_ on a date, simply meeting a friend, who happened to be running a few minutes behind schedule. But that would only draw more attention to the fact that Magnus Bane—celebrity, heart-throb, and notorious flirt—had been stood up. No one had ever rejected him before, at least not since he became famous. It was one of the reasons he had pursued a career in acting; to make sure nobody could ever hurt him that badly again. First his father, then Camille…he was done wearing his heart on his sleeve.

And then a tall, dashing, naïve young man had swooped in past all of his defenses.

Magnus stood up from the table he had especially reserved, moving to the bar. Lydia leaned forwards so that they could whisper.

“I’m sorry, Magnus.”

“I’d like to settle my bill, if you don’t mind.” He glanced around sadly. “I don’t think I can ever show my face here again.”

Lydia gave his forearm a squeeze as she ran through his payment.

Magnus fled the bar. Outside, the street was clear of paparazzi. It had to be something of a miracle. He reached into his pocket for his phone to call Ragnor, when the sound of running footsteps pulled him up short.

_Alexander! He’s here! He came!_

Alec stopped directly in front of him, cheekbones painted pink. His eyes were painfully earnest. “I’m so sorry!”

That was when Magnus remembered to be angry with him.

His expression was cool as he asked, “Did you run all the way here?”

“My sister kept me on the phone for hours, and then my best friend turned up at my door unexpectedly, and when I finally got away from them, I was already twenty minutes late and no cabs would take me.”

“So you ran.” Magnus was trying not to smile, and failing miserably. It was hard to refute anything the poor boy was saying when he looked so genuinely upset.

Alec caught his gaze and held it. It looked like he was holding his breath as well.

“Well, you’re here now.” Magnus opened the door for him, like a gentleman. “Shall we?”

Alec’s answering smile was breath-taking.

Magnus followed him inside, biting back a grin of his own. Lydia caught his eye as they entered and she winked, shooting him a thumbs-up.

Alec held Magnus’s chair out for him, and he tried not to swoon.

Once they were both seated, Alec blurted, “Is this a date?”

Magnus tried not to smile. “If this were a date, trust me, Alexander, you’d know.”

Alec relaxed slightly, but the red in his cheeks was back with a vengeance. “I’m sorry. I just…we met at _Pandemonium_ , so I didn’t want you to think that I was…that I _am_ …”

Magnus raised an eyebrow. “Available?”

Alec smiled faintly, grateful for the save. “Yes.”

“It occurs to me, Alexander, that you could use a friend.” Magnus wasn’t quite sure where he was going with this himself, but Alec looked hopeful. “I’d like to offer my services in that department – if you’d like.”

“You want to be friends with _me?_ ”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” Magnus asked, as Lydia slid a bottle of wine and some glasses down onto the table between them. She disappeared without a word and without even a glance in Alec’s direction. Magnus could have kissed her.

Alec plucked at his sleeve. He was dressed much better tonight, although Magnus missed the sight of his bare, tattooed arms. He hoped he’d find an opportunity to see them again.

“You’re famous,” Alec said simply.

“So are you.”

Alec took a tentative sip of his wine, tried to hide his grimace, and said, “Did you know who I was last night?”

“I figured it out later,” Magnus said. “And you?”

“Same. My sister had to tell me. I don’t think I’d have recognized you otherwise.”

Magnus tried not to let that bruise his ego.

Alec, realizing his mistake, jumped in to add, “I’ve seen every episode of _Shadowhunters_ , though.”

“And yet you didn’t realize I was in it. I’m not sure whether to be amused or insulted.”

Alec flushed.

Magnus took a sip of his wine and studied the younger man. It amazed him that his drunken self had mistaken this boy for straight, considering the way he blushed and stammered every time Magnus so much as caught his eye.

“You thought that this was a date,” he said suddenly. “What made you think that?”

Alec stared back at him. “My sister was worried that you might have gotten the wrong idea about me.”

_Your sister? Or you?_

“Alexander. I am an actor. Which means I spend my entire life – both personal and professional – playing a part. Thus I am able to recognize when someone else is doing the same.”

Alec’s eyes were like hot coals, burning through him.

Magnus continued, “If you truly would like to be my friend, a benefit of that is discretion. Anything you tell me will be held in the strictest confidence.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Alec said darkly.

Magnus nodded. “You will.”

“Would you gentlemen like to see a menu?” Ah, bless Lydia and her impeccable timing, as always.

Magnus looked to Alec, expecting him to decline. Instead, the young footballer took the menu and buried his face behind it, occasionally sneaking peeks over the top when he thought Magnus wasn’t looking.

So, not in denial, then. Alec might reject his sexuality, but he was not unaware of it. Not if the way he kept darting glances at Magnus was any indication.

Magnus resisted the urge to call for champagne.

“So you have training tomorrow morning?”

Alec sagged, clearly grateful that the conversation had moved on to safer waters. They chatted menially about the sport, about Magnus’s career, about the parts of New York they missed and the parts that they didn’t, until Lydia arrived with their entrées.

“I have an apartment in Brooklyn,” Magnus said, straightening out his napkin. “You should visit me there sometime.”

Alec’s eyes softened as he smiled. “I’d like that.”

They ate mostly in silence. Magnus expected it to be awkward—his natural state was to be loud—but the way Alec’s lips kept curving up into a shy smile made any discomfort easy to ignore.

After the meal, they engaged in their first fight:

“You’re being ridiculous, Alec,” Magnus huffed. “This evening was my way of saying thank you. It only makes sense that I should pay for everything.”

Alec, holding his wallet tightly in his hand, glared at Lydia until she accepted payment for his half of the meal. Magnus rolled his eyes. _Stupid, stubborn footballer_.

“I had a nice time tonight,” Alec said, peeking through his eyelashes as they walked the few blocks to Magnus’s hotel.

Magnus felt an unreasonable urge to kiss him. Unreasonable because this wasn’t a date, and because he knew Alec would react badly if he did.

“If you ever need to talk…” Magnus felt Alec stiffen at his side. “…you have my number.”

They had reached his hotel. Magnus wasn’t sure how to say goodbye. If this were a date, he would end it with a kiss, or an invitation to come upstairs. If this were a business meeting, he would shake the man’s hand and offer Alec the use of his private jet sometime. Alexander Lightwood was neither of those things.

To his surprise, Alec took the initiative. Before Magnus knew what was happening, he had been reeled into a hug—possibly the best hug of his life. Alec’s arms were warm and tight around his body, as Magnus nestled his face into the crook of the taller man’s neck. They stayed like that for longer than two platonic friends should be allowed.

When Alec finally pulled away, he was, for the first time, not blushing. “Thanks for dinner. It’s nice to have a friend in the city, someone who knows me outside of my job.”

“Likewise,” Magnus realized.

Alec rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll see you soon, Magnus.”

“Goodnight, Alexander.”

Magnus watched him go, before placing a hand on his chest, directly over his heart. It was racing. He yanked his hand away in shock.

 

Catarina and Ragnor were waiting for him when he returned to his hotel room, and they’d had the ridiculous idea of bringing a friend along with them. The place stunk of smoke and alcohol, and something a lot less legal.

Ragnor peered into the hallway as Magnus stood, unimpressed, in the threshold. “How was babysitting?”

Raphael, sipping from a glass of red wine on the sofa, looked amused. “Apparently you are dating infants now. What happened? Did New York run out of age-appropriate men for you to fuck?”

Magnus scowled. “He’s only six years younger than me. Why do you have to make it sound like centuries?” He slammed the door behind him with more force than was warranted.

“He’s not even old enough to drink,” Ragnor said.

“The drinking age in Britain is eighteen,” Catarina pointed out.

Ragnor waved a hand, clearly drunk. “Semantics. He’s a child. Magnus will only corrupt him.”

Magnus snatched up a glass of wine for himself. “What are you all doing here? I don’t remember inviting you.”

“Ragnor wanted to be here to make sure you didn’t deflower the poor soccer virgin,” Raphael said, without preamble.

Magnus shot Ragnor a sharp look. “Why do you care what I do? You’ve never taken an interest in my love life before.”

“Alec Lightwood is one of the most famous young men in this country, in this sport, perhaps in the world. He also happens to be the poster child for one of the more intolerant factions of Western society – competitive sport. Do you know how many homosexual soccer players there are in the Premiere League?”

“I’m sure I have no idea.”

“No one does,” Ragnor said. “Because they’re all too terrified of retaliation to come out. Trust me, you’re better off leaving this one alone. For his sake, if nothing else.”

Magnus swirled his glass and said nothing.

“At least wait until his career has ended to pursue him,” Catarina suggested.

“And how long will that be?”

Ragnor shrugged. “Most professional footballers retire by forty. Often before that.”

Magnus rolled his eyes. “For your information, though you all seem determined to believe the worst of me, I am not dating Alexander.”

“Too right you’re not!” Ragnor agreed.

“ _Alexander_ ,” Raphael mouthed with a smile.

“Tonight was just a casual dinner between friends,” Magnus continued, wondering why, despite he and Alec having this same conversation, the words now felt like a lie. “I wanted to thank him for his assistance, and he was grateful to make a new friend so far from home.”

Ragnor looked skeptical. “He’s lived in England for longer than you have. I’m sure he has enough friends.”

Magnus’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you pushing this?”

Ragnor, drunk, tired, and visibly stressed, said, “Because I don’t think you have any idea just how badly this could all go wrong.”

 

 

**_ALEC LIGHTWOOD AND MAGNUS BANE SEEN OUT TOGETHER IN LONDON_ **

**For two nights in a row our reporters have spotted these two handsome hunks spending time in each other’s company. Unlikely friendship? Or something more… _scandalous?_ Only time will tell.**

 

** **


	5. Opponents

**Chapter Five: Opponents**

 

For the first time in a long time, Alec woke up smiling. It took him a few seconds to remember why, but when he did, he grinned into his pillow.

The sun was blinking its bleary eyes through the gap in his curtains. There was no telltale patter of rain on the roof. Somehow, Alec knew, it was going to be a good day.

He threw off his covers and padded to the kitchen. He had to be at the Chelsea training ground by midday, although he always made sure to get there an hour early, just to prove how seriously he took his job. Plus he felt like he owed the club a few extra hours, especially if he did end up jumping ship for Idris City.

Alec had started on his breakfast when someone pounded their fist against his front door. _Who could that be?_ Jace lived in the same building, but he was never up before eleven. Alec stood in front of the door, eyeing it warily.

_What if…?_ But, no, he didn’t know Alec’s address. It couldn’t be…

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!_

Alec, ridiculously, jumped. He had spent a lot of time training to not be the kind of guy who jumped, but apparently tiny red-heads brought it out in him; it was Clary at the door.

When he yanked it open, she slipped past him without so much as a by your leave. Her freckled face was pinched with worry.

“What are you doing?” Alec demanded, as she sat down at his kitchen counter, stealing a slice of organic toast off of his plate. It was just like her to feel she was entitled to everything that was his. She did it with Jace, and now she was doing it with his breakfast.

“I need help,” she said.

“Go ask Jace.” Alec tried to keep the petty note out of his voice, and failed spectacularly.

Clary shot him a look. “We both know Jace doesn’t get up before eleven. And the Angel help anyone who tries to make him.”

Alec pulled back a scowl. “What do you want?”

“Well, my graduation ceremony is tomorrow and I still haven’t bought a dress. All my professors are going to be there, my parents—even my Dad, and I have absolutely nothing to wear!”

Alec sagged a little; he knew what it was like to want to impress a father, let alone two.

“Have you called Isabelle?”

“I tried,” Clary moaned, burying her face in her hands. “It went straight to voicemail. She’s off on some extended sex-vacation with Simon and is apparently unreachable by phone.”

Alec stared. His mind had slammed into the phrase ‘sex-vacation’ at sixty miles an hour and he wasn’t sure it would recover.

Clary looked up at him with her big, wet eyes. “Can you help me?”

“I don’t know what you expect me to do about it.” Alec crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m probably the worst person you could come to for fashion advice.”

Clary nodded glumly. “You’re right. I’m desperate. And _doomed_.”

Alec was about to ask her to leave – really, what help could he possibly be? – when his phone chirped on the kitchen counter beside her. Clary glanced down at the screen reflexively. When she saw who it was from, her whole face lit up.

“Magnus Bane! You know Magnus Bane!”

“No I don’t.”

Clary waved his phone at him. Why hadn’t he given Magnus a fake name like Izzy suggested?

“Only a little,” Alec relented.

“He’s a fashion _icon_ ,” Clary said, apropos of nothing. Alec really didn’t like where this was going.

“Wasn’t he recently named one of Britain’s best dressed celebrities under 30?”

Alec was unimpressed. “I’m _not_ calling him.”

“I’ll call him!” Clary said, jumping eagerly to her feet. “I’m sure he couldn’t resist the pleas of a damsel in distress.”

Alec snorted. “You’re hardly _that_.” He might not like Clary—for purely selfish reasons—but that didn’t mean he was blind to her strengths. As a potential companion for Jace, she was all wrong, but as a _person_ she was brave and kind and probably the only woman outside of his family that he knew well enough to admire.

“Please, Alec? This means a lot to me.” Clary faltered. “I know we’re not exactly friends, but I’m hoping to change that. Just tell me what I did and I’ll fix it.”

Alec closed his eyes briefly, holding back. It would be all too easy to slip up and reveal his secret—one he didn’t want _Clary Fray_ , of all people, to know.

“You introduced my sister to Simon. That was enough.” He forced his face to relax into a teasing smile.

Clary groaned. “Believe me, I regret it just as much as you do.”

“I doubt that,” Alec said darkly. “For some reason, Simon believes—mistakenly—that we’re friends now, and has started texting me for relationship advice. As if hearing about their sex-life through Izzy wasn’t traumatic enough.”

Clary smirked. “I guess I’m not the only one who’s desperate.”

Alec’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a dig at me or at Simon?”

“Both.” Clary held out his phone to him. “So are you going to call Magnus or shall I?”

Alec snatched his phone back. While he waited for the call to connect, he pushed into his bedroom and slammed the door behind him.

“Alexander?” Magnus’s voice was soft and warm.

Alec glanced at the clock. “Are you still in bed? It’s 10am.”

“Some of us have the day off today,” Magnus retorted. Alec heard the rustle of bed-sheets. He tried to not think about it, but his cheeks weren’t the only part of him that felt like they were on fire.

“If you have the day off today, does that mean you’re free?”

“For you? Always.”

Alec blinked. “Wha—really?”

“You saved my life,” Magnus reminded him.

“Like I said, you don’t owe me anything.”

“And like _I_ said, we’re friends now.” Magnus sounded amused. “So what can I do for you, _friend?_ ”

Alec should have known this was a bad idea. If he’d been counting on Magnus to decline Clary’s request, he was sorely mistaken.

“Um, well, a frie—someone I know is…having a bit of a situation, and I think she could use your help.”

“I don’t know how much use I would be in an emergency. That’s more your area of expertise.”

Alec snorted. “It’s a _fashion_ emergency.”

There was a slight pause. “I’ll be there in ten minutes! Text me your address.” Magnus hung up.

Alec stared down at the phone in his hand. What had he done?

When he emerged from his bedroom, still stunned, Clary was waiting on the other side of the door. “So?”

Alec palmed a hand across his face. “I have to leave for training,” he said. “Are you going to be okay to wait for him here?”

Clary squealed and threw her arms around him. Alec suffered through it and then went back into his room to grab his gym bag.

“How did _you_ meet Magnus Bane, anyway?” Clary called from the kitchen.

“I went to _Pandemonium_ with Jace.”

Clary’s silence was damning. Alec never could quite figure out what she and Jace were to each other. They lived together, but, as far as he knew, they had never been romantic. They were clearly pining for one another, but both refused to act on those feelings. Every time Alec tried to talk to Jace about Clary, the other man would shut down completely. Apparently there was a history there that Jace didn’t think Alec had any right to know about.

By the time Alec re-joined Clary in the kitchen, she had schooled her expression into one of perfect nonchalance. “I didn’t know _Pandemonium_ was your scene.”

“I hate clubbing,” Alec agreed. “But Jace made me. And then I happened to run into Magnus.” No need to go into the gory details. He already felt bad enough for telling Izzy, when really it was no-one’s business but Magnus’s.

“Well, I can’t thank you enough.”

Alec forced a smile, and then rushed to the door. He wanted to be long gone before Magnus arrived. It was cowardly, but Alec was terrified of what Clary might pick up on if she saw them together. It was the same way he felt when people watched he and Jace too closely. He had to be careful. This was the sort of secret that, if it came out (so to speak), could destroy his career.

As always, Alec was the first player to arrive at the training ground. The coaches, technical assistants, physiotherapists—everyone, bar the team, was milling around, setting up workstations and running through the training schedule in low voices. Alec waved to a few people. He wasn’t social—far from it—but he owed these people a lot, enough to give them the courtesy of a wave or a smile whenever they passed each other in the halls.

Sebastian was the next to arrive. He didn’t greet any of the staff, and his only smile—albeit tinged with sarcasm—was directed at Alec.

“Look who it is,” he said, sounding like every cartoon villain Alec had ever hated.

“Morning, Sebastian.”

“And what did we get up to last night?”

Alec shrugged. “Dinner with a friend. You?”

“A friend, huh?” Sebastian’s mouth quirked unpleasantly. He had a phone in his hand and Alec should have seen it coming, with how keyed up he looked, and how interested he suddenly seemed in Alec’s social life.

Instead, Alec grunted, kneeling down to tie his boot laces.

“I didn’t know you and Magnus Bane were so close.”

Despite the surprise of hearing that name is this context, Alec managed not to react. “We’re not,” he said. “I only met him a couple days ago.”

Sebastian whistled. “Lightwood moves _fast_. Tell me: how big is he?”

Alec straightened up. “About 5 ft. 10. Why?”

Sebastian seemed to take his deliberate obtuseness as confirmation. He smirked.

“Is it illegal to have short friends?” Alec continued, refusing to cut eye-contact.

“I just didn’t know you swung that way.”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Sebastian?”

_“Guys, over here! Practice is about to start! Everybody pair up and start your stretches!”_

“Saved by the bell,” Sebastian sneered, jogging over to where the rest of the team was standing in a loose circle around their coach.

Alec closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. As he made a move to follow him, his phone pinged in his pocket. He checked it quickly.

 

**_Magnus_ **

_I hope you don’t mind, but Biscuit has invited me to stay for dinner. Which apparently you’re cooking. Sorry._

**_Magnus_ **

_Have fun at training! Send me lots of pictures of half-naked, sweaty athletes!_

**_Alec_ **

_I didn’t know it was possible to be charged with sexual harassment by proxy._

**_Magnus_ **

_Oh, please. The only one I’m sexually harassing around here is you, and, so far, you’ve rather seemed to enjoy it._

**_Alec_ **

_Maybe I’m just gathering evidence for the court case._

**_Magnus_ **

_Give me an excuse to wear a barrister’s wig and I’ll love you forever._

**_Alec_ **

_Aren’t you supposed to be helping Clary? Not flirting with me?_

**_Magnus_ **

_I can do both! I’m a great multi-tasker ;)_

**_Alec_ **

_I’m forwarding that last message to my lawyers._

**_Magnus_ **

_The emoji too much for you, darling?_

**_Magnus_ **

_;) ;) ;)_

**_Alec_ **

_I have to go now. Coach not happy. Told him I was texting my sick grandmother._

**_Magnus_ **

_Have fun! I’ll see you tonight for brisket and bingo! :P_

**_Magnus_ **

_And yes, that is code for something._

**_Alec_ **

_See you soon, Magnus._

**_Alec_ **

_:)_

 

**Author's Note:**

> A few explanations for those not versed in English football:
> 
> 1\. Chelsea FC and Arsenal FC are both real teams, based in London. Idris City FC is obviously a team I made up for the fic.  
> 2\. The 'Premiere League' is the national soccer league in England.  
> 3\. In January there is something called a "transfer window", which is a fixed period of time where players can be bought by other teams (usually only if their current team allows them out of their contract).  
> 4\. "International Week" - this is where soccer players are exempted from club games to play for their country.  
> 5\. "Sky Sports" is a television channel in England all about, you guessed it, sport.
> 
> A few notes about the writing of this fic:
> 
> 1\. I am a New Zealander living in England, writing about a Americans living in England. Some of the language/slang terms I use may seem foreign or might not fit the canon ethnicity of the character. Unavoidable.  
> 2\. This fic is set in 2014, when the last World Cup was held.  
> 3\. I will update this fic whenever I get a free moment.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I haven't read The Mortal Instruments, or any of C.Clare's other novels, in 6 years. There are bound to be some inaccuracies, but just roll with it and enjoy the ride.


End file.
